Until Fountain Bridge - Young Samantha (читать книги бесплатно полностью без регистрации сокращений TXT) 📗

As soon as Braden left I buzzed around my flat in a tizzy, wondering what I should do.

Should I call Adam and thank him? Should I go to his place and thank him in person? Should

I berate him for using violence to make a point? No, that last one definitely wouldn’t wash

with him. He wasn’t a violent person. In fact, although he could be intimidating and had

warned off a number of bullies when I was younger, this was the first time I knew of that

he’d actually gotten physical with someone on my behalf. I’d half expected him to go after

Rich. Adam had exploded and stormed out of my mum and Clark’s house when Braden

relayed the news to them all. Braden had told them after he told me but my throat was still

tight with tears as I had to hear it a second time.

After Braden’s departure, I finally made the decision to cancel my night out with the girls.

I jumped into the shower, blow-dried my hair straight, and threw on a long skirt with a low

waistband, my Uggs, and a wooly turtleneck with a cropped hem. I wanted to be casual, of

course, but whenever I knew I’d be seeing Adam, I liked to remind him in some way that I

was a woman with a woman’s figure. Not that it made any real impact. Despite evidence that

he checked me out sometimes, Adam had been carefully platonic in our interactions since our

lip brush three years ago. I had dated three guys in a bid to get over him. It never worked.

The guys just paled in comparison to him and the relationships fizzled out.

With a mind to the cold, I’d thrown on a short wool jacket over my top, along with a scarf,

and I’d flagged down a taxi outside my flat. It was only as the cab was pulling up to Adam’s

place that I thought maybe I should have called to warn him I was coming over. It was a

Saturday night. He might have company.

My stomach lurched unpleasantly at the thought. The last time I’d visited Adam

unannounced had been four months ago, and I’d walked in on him with a girl called Vicky.

Not only was I horrified once more to play witness to one of his sexual interludes, but I’d

been shocked to realize that he and my brother shared women. Not at the same time, thank

God. I knew they shared (and I didn’t want to know if it was a reoccurring thing) because

Braden had been seeing Vicky for three months. In an effort to soothe my severely bruised

romantic notions, Adam had explained Braden and Vicky were really casual and when Vicky

had said she fancied Adam, Braden had mentioned it to his friend and Adam had—la, la, la,

la, la, la, la! I didn’t hear the rest of the explanation because I had indeed stuck my fingers childishly in my ears and “la, la-ed” at him.

Sex was not casual to me. Not only was I annoyed that my brother, who had once been a

secret romantic, had turned into a serial monogamist, I was even more annoyed at Adam for

encouraging it. I couldn’t even describe how angry I was at Vicky.

After asking the cab driver to wait a second, I pulled out my phone and called up to Adam.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he greeted me, his rich voice filled with concern. He was clearly still

worried about how I was coping with Rich’s treachery.

“Hullo,” I replied quietly, letting the warmth of hearing his voice fill my chest. “I’m

downstairs. Are you okay for me to come up?”

“Of course. I’ll buzz you in.”

I hung up, paid the taxi driver and hopped out, my heart racing as I hurried to the entrance

doors just as Adam let me in. My palms began to sweat as the lift took me up to his floor. It

was strange but my reaction to being alone with Adam had only gotten worse over the last

few years. Every time was like a first date, and yet I knew him better than I knew practically

anyone.

When the lift doors opened my eyes met Adam’s. He was standing in his doorway across

the hall, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb. He

wore a plain white T-shirt and a pair of old jeans, his feet bare, his hair mussed, and he

needed a shave.

He was so bloody hot it was a wonder I didn’t start hyperventilating on the spot.

I crossed the hallway to him and held out the bottle of wine I’d brought him. He took it

with a quizzical smile and I sighed. “It was either a bottle of wine or a slap on the wrist.” I eyed his bruised knuckles pointedly.

Adam’s lips twitched. “Wine will do.”

I followed him into the duplex, my eyes drinking in the space as always. A large open

staircase greeted you at the front entrance, leading up to two spacious bedrooms, a bathroom

and an office. Beyond the staircase on the ground floor was just wide open space—a massive

sitting area with floor-to-ceiling glass windows covering one wall, and at the very end of the

room a stylish kitchen with an island, breakfast bar, and a dining table and chairs.

It was a luxurious property and one he could more than afford. Not only did Braden pay

him extremely well, Adam had invested in his own rental properties these last two years and

it supplemented his income nicely.

I took another look around the large space, smirking. Unlike my flat, Adam’s was

completely clutter-free. All items were carefully chosen and had their place. In fact, if I didn’t know first-hand that he was the straightest straight guy ever (well, with the exception of

Braden), Adam’s duplex might convince me otherwise.

“I think I’ll crack this open… I feel a lecture coming on.” His voice was teasing as he

wandered toward the kitchen.

As I shrugged out of my jacket and took off my scarf, I tilted my head and watched his

delicious arse walk away from me. The man had the most perfect bottom in the history of all

bottoms. Laying my jacket over his huge corner sofa, I wandered toward the kitchen,

watching as he pulled two glasses out of a cupboard and began to pour wine into them. Adam

turned just as I reached him and I saw his eyes flicker over the bare skin between the hem of

my top and the waistband of my skirt before quickly shifting away. I gave myself a secret

smug smile. Good wardrobe choice.

“Here,” he said somewhat gruffly, handing me a glass.

Our eyes met as we each took a sip of wine, and as I lowered my glass I told him

solemnly, “I came here to thank you.”

Adam shook his hand. “Ellie, you don’t need to thank me.” His face darkened. “It was my

pleasure, believe me.”

“Braden said he had a hard time pulling you off of Rich.”

“He fucked with you, Els. I mean he really fucked with you.”

“Literally,” I murmured and Adam stiffened.

“Don’t,” he warned me. “I’m this close to finishing the scumbag off.”

I felt a small thrill go through me at the sincerity in his voice. I loved that Adam cared this much. He might not be willing to see me as anything but Braden’s wee sister, but it was a

nice consolation prize to know he had some feelings for me. “I should be reprimanding you.”

I reached for his free hand, using his wounds as an excuse to touch him, and lifted it closer to me for inspection. His knuckles weren’t just bruised, they were swollen, and the middle one

had a small, healing gash in it. I hissed in a breath. “How many times did you hit him?”

Adam stepped closer, staring at his hand in mine. “I hit the wall next to his head as a

warning shot. He didn’t heed the warning, said shit he really shouldn’t have, and I think I got in four really good hits before Braden pulled me off.”

I lifted my gaze to his face, no longer feeling the thrill. “Did you leave him conscious?”

“Barely.” Adam’s eyes narrowed. “Do you care?”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

His expression softened and he gently tugged his hand free from mine. “Don’t worry,